Heathens
by Crowlet
Summary: Our story didn't go quite like it should've. The guide was an exiled man, the arms dealer a criminal, the dryad a transvestite, and the merchant… he kept trying to sell us questionable drugs. At least the nurse was normal, even if she was a harlot.
1. Exactly

The name of the guide is William or Willie, because that is the name of my lusty, lesbian lover and I dedicate this crap to him. I'm telling you this now because sometimes you start reading something with potential that you think you might end up loving, when suddenly something surprises you and you realize it makes the story that you want to like unbearable. There are things non-negotiable in our minds that ruin stories for us and I respect that. So just letting you know in advance … Willie. Also, this Will be a romance story with player and guide, granted that I don't decide to have him grow sincere feelings for Cthulhu for the chance at writing gey tentacle pron (that was a joke.) My writings tend to get a little steamy so … I hope you're having a good winter.

Oh, and I have mixed feelings about my writing style in this story. I keep spontaneously breaking the fourth wall because I chose to write from a storyteller's perspective. I might settle down for later chapters, but feel free to tell me your thoughts?

**-:1:-**

**Exactly**

Getting dropped onto another world was not as smooth as one would hope it to be with god as your driver. For one, it was hard for such a big (in all respects) deity to dedicate itself to the meticulous task of picking up and depositing the microscopic, near inconsequential size of the human female's body into the harsh, needy world of Terraria … Especially at the right latitude, longitude, velocity, altitude, and time, so that she arrived relatively intact if not safely. To smooth things over, the over-glorified and lazy spirit-

« I hear that. »

-and as I was saying, the altruistic and ever competent Being took care into preparing the world and a guide, an exiled man who was not only knowledgeable but susceptible to possession from higher spirits, such as the _brilliant and all-encompassing_ light bulb threatening to banish the story's only narrator into the void right now. Does it really matter that I'm an irreverant heathen? I get the job done! No, sorry, okay, let's just agree to continue the story, and I'll tame my biased descriptions. Happy?

« Not as happy as the majority of readers will be. »

It was a heavy snowfall that winter, especially in the mountains where a guide's meagre lodge of stone, dirt, and wood stood erect, braving the heavy gales and sea of snow that befell it. It wasn't much, and it certainly was lacking in some creature comforts, but it had a fireplace, a bed, and a table in a thickly layered shack.

It had been nearly a year by now for him. The poor, lonely man had been living happily in the town a few kilometres away over hill and vale (mountain and abyss), but after receiving a rather disturbing dream from an impossibly bright light that basically assaulted him with fleeting images that told him to pack up and go, he eventually came to realize he would have no choice in the matter and might as well prepare for the worst. I admire your ability to withstand punishment, my good man.

You may remember a mention that he was exiled. Well, being of a rather primitive and superstitious village, when views of his dream spread, they collectively decided on their own that this was a sign from God that **this innocent man needed to die**. Originally, he was supposed to be hanged. Hangings were, in these times, unsurprisingly common for this barbaric and god-fearing society. His girlfriend immediately verbally lashed out at him and despised him, his father disowned him, and the town threw rocks at his weeping and broken form. Only his dear, old mama took pity on him; clandestinely she kept these views, for if an impious breath were to discharge from her kind lips, my god, she would be torn asunder by the raging mob. However, he was her only son and she loved him, thus she was the one to help him avoid that early and unfortunate demise by sending him off on arguably a just as unpleasant path into the heart of the hailing mountains. Maybe you're better off without them anyway, man.

It's hard to say whether he was bitter or not toward the higher powers despite the questionable nature of this world's native deity. He recognized the fact that it wasn't god who directed the villagers into doing all those nasty things. It was surely for a good reason that his life led him, willingly or not, to the middle of **snowy nowhere**.

Then that reason fell out of the sky.

At the time, the guide had been climbing the treacherous slopes and terrain for two simple needs that needed to be addressed … no, make that three. Well, initially he had intended to go out and collect firewood and food, but he then had to pee really bad so he hid behind a tree (disregarding the fact no one would be around to see), and it was around this time that he spotted the body plummeting to the ground in the distance. Startled and instinctively concerned for his fellow man, he rushed over to the impact site.

"_Female!"_ He first noticed with a gaping maw, guilty of excitement fuelled by more than a bit of desperation. _"I haven't seen woman,"_ or man, _"in months!"_ This was not only human, but a woman as well. Congratulations! _"Praise the Lord!"_ Woah there, stallion.

He took back the reins on his emotionally charged state over the chance of having human contact again. He had been close to losing his sanity and honestly felt he couldn't last any longer living like he was, alone. But now he had to steer himself back onto the road of reality and seriously consider what had to be done. It was snowing and cold for one, and her tattered clothing, decimated as they were, weren't going to help her avoid a tragic case of pneumonia. Not seeing her stir in the slightest, he stepped forward and examined her closely for breath.

When he felt a weak exhalation against his hand that had been brought up to her lips, he sighed in relief. She was alive at least for now, he concluded. He continued on and examined her body for any injuries. Bruises and cuts, but no broken bones. She had miraculously survived, relatively intact like I had said in the beginning. Though, he thought as his eyes began wandering a little too freely, she was pleasing to the eye even with her clothes ripped like t-

He shook his head to clear it of dishonourable thoughts, and set about the task of carrying or dragging her back with him. The unidentified lady wwas light in weight, though that didn't shock him with her body type. The black-haired woman was thin, shorter than him, and pale as alabaster or ivory. He easily lifted her into his arms. On the other hand … There was one other thing that fell with her, and he attempted to lift it up. Having not put enough effort into doing so, it barely separated from the ground before collapsing onto his foot.

"Ow! What the—why's this so heavy?" He exclaimed.

The handle of a tool poked out of the thick but small, grey rucksack, and he grudgingly looped one strap of the two attached to the burden over his shoulder.

Luckily the landing site wasn't that far from his shack, but after stripping her of wet clothes and settling her into the bed (feeling immensely invasive as he did so but seeing the importance), as well as sparking the fire to dry her body and clothes. The poor guy still needed a meal before dark, and the hunt would take quite a while. Hopefully his guest wouldn't awaken before he was back ready to explain things and get answers.

Then again, he had thought one time "Hopefully no one will freak out over this dream I had" and look where that got him! Sorry, guide.


	2. Firsts

This chapter, the narrator isn't as... spunky, I guess, as the last chapter. Narry seems to fall flat halfway through and I start describing things more. Finally taking the job seriously, I suppose, narrator? Anyway, it's still early into the game and though I still don't see any romance, don't fret, because I'm sure I'll fit Drama Llama and Sexy Betsy into this barn somewhere. I can't wait until I start introducing the NPC's~ Well, here goes!

**-:2:-**

**Firsts**

When you're naked, you know you're naked. The small touches of your own warm skin brushing against itself in places where you normally would have a barrier give it away, even if you haven't even opened your eyes yet. That's why, as the mysterious lady who had the misfortune of being dropped out of the sky slowly came to, the blood in her veins fearfully hastened to a loud thumping. Granted she was laboured by pain, disoriented, and groggy as all hell as well, but that didn't delay the realization and the following implications of her being naked. I can only imagine all the horrible thoughts and questions running through her panicking mind.

Outwardly, it appeared she hadn't awoken yet, though her body was unnaturally still and quiet with not a breath daring to escape. Her ears strained for a sound. When nothing made itself known, as far as she knew, the belief that she was alone right now grew. She let out a breath. Since she figured she was alone, she dared to open her eyes.

This had to be the sketchiest looking place ever. And I agree. But she was a rational person first, and her eyes examined every detail of the room with wide eyes.

"_Small!"_ She thought to herself, _"Practically empty, no personal affects, all bare living requirements except for food. The fire's dim, suggesting whoever was here before has been gone for a while."_

Taking a closer look at the fire, she noticed some torn fabrics laid out on the stone floor in front of the fireplace. Feeling the fabrics carefully, she noticed they were warm and dry. Her clothes, she suddenly recognized. Picking the shirt up however, revealed to her the rips as it practically fell apart in her hands. If possible, her expression became more lost and frightened. What happened to her? Did she get attacked? Where was she? What was she going to wear now that her clothes were ripped? What would she do if the person who brought her here came back? I could go on, but I'll spare you.

A shiver made its way down her spine, halfway caused by fear and half by cold. She needed clothes, her mind nagged as her body continued shivering. Looking at the tatters of her top with a teary-eyed exasperation, she decided to rip up the dangling, useless pieces and tie them around the outfit to help keep certain areas covered. She more ore less had khakis (it used to be full length pants...) and half a top now, overall looking like she was ready for summer. Well, beggars can't be choosers, lady. After successfully clothing herself to a degree and not feeling so indecent anymore, she drifted back to the bed and the warm blankets, deliberating what to do now.

She didn't have to think long, for she heard crunching in the snow outside. Reflexively she reached for the blanket and hid her body under it, staring at the door with apprehension as it creaked open...

My god—kill it! It's hideous! That's just gross-

What, that's just the … What a let down …

The guide walked in, shivering from the cold and burdens of snow piled onto his shoulders and head. Shaking himself off at the doorway, he took off his boots and stumbled straight to the fireplace. From her spot on the bed, the guest watched as the man placed a pot over the dying fire, poked at the fire to make it grow, and placed a decent-sized fish on the one table in the room. By the way his shoulders sagged like an old man, he appeared exhausted and probably was ready to sleep, except he seemed to be preparing to cook dinner. There was something routinized and normal about it all, as if her presence was an anomaly in space and time.

For a second, she thought maybe he wouldn't notice her. That was until he turned around and their eyes locked onto each other.

…

My, it was getting cold in here. The young lady and gentleman both froze faster than a dip in the icy lake (figuratively speaking, of course) from their respective places across the room, locked into a staring contest with each other. The guest, or hostage depending on the circumstances that she was currently ignorant about, had the covers pulled tightly over her form in a defensive manner. The guide's mind raced with hypothetical situations over what to say or do at this point. She was obviously lost and scared right now, and he needed to explain that without frightening her further … Where to start, though? If he leapt straight into how he found her falling from the sky, she might think he was crazy, and he wasn't ignorant enough to not realize what his situation looked like from an outsider's perspective. (And not from mine, because I see all, know all... The guide's wearing spotty boxer shorts.)

Sometimes he over-thought things and that made him miss the obvious sometimes. This caused him many awkward social situations at times because he would reach the wrong conclusion. Ironically, this is what endeared him supposedly to his ex-girlfriend, the crazy back-stabbing ho that she was. However, it was also what drove them apart, when the guide misinterpreted a question regarding his dream and caused her to blow up at him about his 'Satan worshipping'. I'm sure his lonely, bleeding heart is riddled with angst at the thought of his wookie-poo.

_"I'm kind of glad that she's gone, honestly,_" the guide contemplated in remembrance of his first love that went horribly wrong. _"Though it was a failure, she was my first real experience dealing with opposite sex. If it were her here, the first thing I would say would be …"_

"How are you feeling?" In his excitement of her waking suddenly, he had forgotten about plain manners. I suppose it's understandable when a girl falls out of the sky, but still, geez.

Her defensive posture on the bed faltered for a moment as she regarded him. Unbeknownst to the man, this rather haplessly dressed female had been looking at him with more than just distrust and fear. He may be a lonely, desperate, and exiled man—I can't believe I'm saying this—but he wasn't completely ugly, you know. Sure, he had stubble over his unshaven chin, and his shaggy hair looked like it could use a good trim as well … but, his hair looked soft, clean, and was a pleasant golden brown like a field she wouldn't mind running her hands through. His face shape was mature but his features soft in a boyish way, and he radiated a sort of warmth from his sun-kissed skin (compared to hers, anyway) and pink lips. Intelligent, brown eyes locked on her with just as much genuine shock and … was it concern that furrowed his brow, or was he distressed for another reason?

His question had sounded so natural and routinized that her response came out on its own, as if she'd been asked that a million times. Well, maybe she had, but for some reason she couldn't recall any one such occasion where it had happened. Nonetheless, without her consent her lips were already shaping the words, "I'm fine, thank you." leaving her wondering whether she really was or not.

As an afterthought, feeling a bit slow on the uptake, she started to ask "who are you" but it fell flat once she realized he wanted to respond. Thus, she went unheard. She shifted shyly.

"I'm glad to hear that. You should stay in those blankets where it's warm, at least until your clothes have dried."

"Actually…"

Seemingly lost in thought, he continued regardless of her interruption, "…since we don't know whether you'll have gotten sick, you know, from being out in this wretched weather. Imagine how surprised I was to find you fallen there …"

"Sorry, I already-" She tried talking over him to gain a foothold in this one-sided conversation.

"Oh, sorry," he looked slightly startled, as if just remembering or realizing something. The next bit made her face fall in disappointment. "I have to cook this fish before it goes bad. I'll grab your clothes first—hey, where are your clothes! I know I put them here before I left… this isn't intentional, I swear it!" He looked genuinely flustered as he roved about the room in a panic.

She watched him in exasperation. It was hard to think suspiciously of him with him in such a state. Well, if her mousy voice couldn't reach him, maybe actions would. One simple act to do, then! All she had to do to show him where the clothes went to was to stand up and drop the blankets she had wrapped protectively around her body. The warm, silky material pooled at her feet with a sound like a waving flag. The distraught man whirled at the sound on the spot.

He seemed to pause for a long time, before finally reacting … "Oh, you found them."

"Actually," her voice, louder now and tinted with amusement, explained to him gently "while you were out I saw them in front of the fire, so I …" She let the sentence hang and the guide assumed the rest.

"That's good … I think my clothes are too big, and I don't have many with me to begin with…" He exhaled sharpy in relief. With another thought, he slowly stepped forward, holding out his hand.

Looking confused for a second, she hesitantly interpreted it as a greeting, and placed hers in his.

His next few actions were unexpected, as for the first time since she met him, he smiled. It wasn't a boastful, arrogant, or particularly confident one, though neither was it bashful or shy. It held a calm acceptance or knowing to it that seemed to transform his image from a dusty-looking hermit that kidnaps ladies, to a smart, considerate, and yet unfortunate young man.

His eyes in the low lighting glistened almost tearily as he locked eyes with the girl that the omniscient light bulb had tasked him with, and thusly had put an innocent man through hell for. His blue eyes intensely analyzed and commit to memory every detail about those wide, lost rubies that were hers, as if he were back in the village library again passionately studying. Her eyes in the shadows of those long lashes flickered uncertainly over his untelling face, but hers told of the tentative trust that she had placed in him. He saw her as youthful, trusting, fearful of so many things, but brave … Even if he hadn't met her in this situation, he might've still called her one of the most interesting girls he'd met so far. Not that it was saying much considering the size of his puny village in comparison to a city on modern day Earth.

As was customary of the times, he lifted her hand to his lips and gently placed a kiss on her finger tips, bending his body slightly at the waist in an offered bow of respect to a lady. He could feel his pulse quickening and the blood rushing in his veins as he did so, but he ignored it. He watched in confusion as she quirked a smile, but turned her head away as if to hide from him. It wasn't a customary reaction so he wasn't sure how to interpret that.

He forged on regardless, saying, "I am William, Miss …" He trailed off, waiting expectantly.

Her head still refused to face his, but her red eyes shyly glanced at him as quietly she said, "I am …" But then she stilled. Inside her mind, an internal struggle arose as she found herself surprisingly struggling to recall her name. This was something she should know, but she couldn't. "That is, you may call me …" She had this just a second ago! A word or name drifted to the top of her mind and before she knew it her mouth was saying "Mercy." Well she couldn't remember what her name really was, and that sounded familiar at least, so she deemed it acceptable.

_"Poetic,_" William remarked silently with eyebrows raised. _"I wonder, does it match the owner?"_

A chorus of rumbling sounds, suspiciously like empty bellies, reminded him of uncooked supper. "Shall I cook us a meal? Regrettably, there isn't much variety around here…"

"I would like that." Mercy answered with a small smile, facing him more confidently. A light blush was notable on her cheeks, though he was sure it was from the stomach rumbles.

"Alright then, m'lady, if you would so kindly join me at the table … or you could wait here at the bed until I am finished."

She showed initiative when she not only accompanied him, but helped him prepare the fish. It was nothing he couldn't have done alone, of course, but he appreciated it anyway.

"This is my first time dining alone with a gentleman." She pondered aloud. At this time she didn't consider that he probably also saw her pretty much naked as well, which would be a first for her.

"Is that so?" He questioned with humour as he overheard. "And what of this gentleman of whom you speak? I hope you are not expecting _monsieur Poisson_, for I'm afraid he is quite busy with being a delicious meal for an exquisite guest…"

The whole situation was rather silly, what with his hobo-like exterior and their hands both fiddling with fish guts and other things while they talked so high-class to each other. Her laugh was infectious, the restrained giggling he heard sounding like water that would bubble over and flood the room if she didn't hold back. Well, _he_ didn't.

Smiling and relaxing even through the manure Life threw at them both, a sense of peace started off their first of many nights together in Terraria.


	3. Anger

« III »

**Anger**

The next few days after were spent awkwardly tip-toeing around each other, so to speak, and getting more comfortable with another presence from day to day. You can imagine there would be a lot of moments like "I have to pee; where is your toilet?", showering, and changing clothes. The two had to acclimatise to not only the environment but to each other's needs, and this resulted in the formation of a routine. Guide would be the one to get necessities as Mercy was ill equipped to handle the cold weather of the mountains, and she would basically keep house or do nothing until the man of the house returned. This housewife and bread-winner gig continued on for roughly a week until one supper, where our dear Guide let slip where he came from…

William's expression tightened, a cross or injured look warping his features from the kind and sympathetic young man that she was familiar with, to a frightening and spiteful stranger.

So, she dropped it.

…

An interesting point may be how they sorted out the sleeping arrangements. Well, because of there only being one bed, of course it was either one person volunteered to sleep on the floor or they share the only bed (which, was big enough to accommodate two, surprisingly). Not willing to force the other onto the dirt floor, for that's what it genuinely was (dirt and stone), each understood the situation and generally kept to their respective sides of the bed. No one wanted to sleep on that dusty, dirty surface. Who knows what you would contract there. Bugs? Infection? It was probably cold, too.

That night however, she _needed _to know. She didn't understand why, but at seeing her companion's pain, something inside her drove her to seek it out. Were her intentions to help him or was it for her own devices? Even she did not comprehend the answer to that question. Though, she would without a doubt admit to worrying about him. Even if she asked for a selfish reason, if she could ease that pain by letting him talk about it, she would be doubly satisfied.

With that resolution in mind, she sat up on the bed and turned to him. Feeling and hearing her restless shifting, the man turned to face her with exasperation but just as well as curiosity.

"Why are you so upset when I mention that place?" She murmured into the dark.

That tense feeling again. She couldn't see his face, only his silhouette, but it shook her. It was raw pain and fear radiating from that unnaturally stiff frame. Still, she pressed on. "William?"

He exhaled noisily and moved to get out of bed, wanting to escape from the situation that was bound to go downhill soon, when a feeling of overwhelming desperation led the thin woman's arms—in nearly an instinctual manner—to somehow pinning his shoulders to the bed. Dimly Mercy could see the Guide's unhappy and scowling mouth, and started immediately regretting her actions. She should apologize, she _knew_, but still…

What ejected from her lips instead was the quiet and pleading word, "Please …"

A low groan from his lungs sent tingling vibrations through her arms and she faltered yet obstinately held on. He was not trusting himself to speak without the immensely bitter, ugly feelings rising in his belly. His answer was substituted with a shake of his head indicating no, he didn't want to talk about it. Either she didn't see it or didn't pay it any mind because again she spoke.

"Please tell me, William." But he was silent, for if he opened his trap he was afraid she'd be bitten for what it had to say.

…

"Let's talk about it." She tried again after a while, and was sounding increasingly upset as this went on, as was he, though she couldn't really tell from his deathly silence.

Finally, a pitiful, "I wish you would trust me…" and something in him snapped.

She yelped when he suddenly grabbed her and threw her weight over. Their bodies rolled on the bed until his was the body hovering on top. His weight bore down on her and pinned her to the mattress, his legs between hers, his hands gripping her wrists tightly, and his elbows digging into her arms. It wasn't incredibly painful, more surprising than anything, but it would most likely bruise.

"It h-urts…" she whispered timidly, the quietly proposed objection barely coherent.

His face was closer now, and she could see the intense emotions twisting his face. It matched the feeling that had been echoing in her chest earlier.

"Please, what?" He mockingly asked.

The Guide went on answering himself, anyway, "Please tell you the pathetic story of the man who got disowned by his family, beaten by the town and sentenced to hang? Is it better to tell you that I am branded a criminal by the only nearby society? All for the stupid reason of me sharing a stupid dream of God telling me to come find someone—which is _YOU, _by the way!"

He seethed, and he cried, not seeming to really see her though he was looking straight at her. The emotions hit him hard and the words couldn't stop tumbling out before he could stop them. "Suddenly I have a strange dream and they accuse me of consorting with the devil! If you didn't exist, I might be still sitting at home with my family right now or continuing study at the library, or even be bedding the woman I thought I would marry one day! Do you suppose it best to tell you _that_," He was breathless by the end of his rant, forcing a name hoarsely through his throat. "Mercy?"

Tears were streaming down his face, and when he heard the soft 'plink' of a stray tear of his hitting a wet cheek far below, he realized, focusing bleary eyes though the curtain of saltwater, she was crying as well.

"I'm … I'm so-rryy."

Reality came back around and punched him in the gut. With every word she spoke, it was like a knife stabbing into his chest. The remorse was a painful reminder of who he was, quite literally, releasing his long pent up grief on.

"I d- didn't kno-w. I do'n't know anyything anymo-re. I do-n't know if I h-have family, _I d-don't even know my own name_! I jusst kno-w I care about you and want-t to help … I'm u … useless like alwayss."

The Guide was stunned at the information she divulged about exactly how lost she really was. It took a few seconds to wrap his head around it and how it affected their situation, and it was only after that, that another knife was added to the figurative bleeding wound.

He had to take a minute to recover, and so did she. Their crying and sniffles filled the tense silence until they started fading away into slight hiccups. To his embarrassment, the man finally realized their position and her discomfort. Easing his weight and grip off of her, he brought his fingers to brush against her still wet cheeks. He cringed as she flinched in reaction, shrinking away.

Becoming sober and exceedingly gentle, the supposed-to-be Guide murmured, "No… I really have become the criminal they wanted me to be, without even realizing…" He paused, trying once more to touch her cheek, and this time she let him wipe the remnants of tears from her pale cheeks. He frowned. "I'm sorry. I've never told you how grateful I am… I thought I was really crazy and going to die alone in exile, but you actually arrived, and stayed by my side. You didn't judge me, you trusted me even, though I didn't explain at all who I was aside from my name."

Her lips quivered as she quietly listened, and he smiled sadly as he went on to say, "It does _hurt_—God, does it—to remember the times before I came here, but I really am thankful to you… You aren't useless, and if I could turn back time I would punch myself for making you think that."

There was a brief quiet as he waited for her to say something, and she struggled to find something to say.

Her feelings were hurt by him, her body bruised by him, but now she at last understood the meaning of his pain. While the tentative trust in him was shattered, for now, she found herself actually accepting him despite all that he said in anger.

"Okay…" Was all she could honestly say in the end, to sum up her thoughts.

His mind raced for something more to say, anything to win her forgiveness if not her trust back again.

"How about…" He swallowed, dreading the plan he had in mind, "I introduce you to my mother? She can help you get clothes, better ones, and for the weather as well.

Granted, he hadn't seen his mother in forever, but she was the only person he trusted in that village.

He warily eyed her face for any negative reactions. Instead, fortunately, she smiled.

"I think I'd like that …"

Sighing in relief, he got off her—coughing in embarrassment as he realized he had been still hovering over her until now—and the two exhaustively collapsed into heavy slumbers.

-x-

To Town

-x-

The next morning the "wife-beater" and "useless housewife" both layered up as best they could. The Guide had fashioned cloaks for them both from the blankets, a shoddy but good enough job to pass quickly through the village. He had made sure they had hoods to hide their faces, for their (particularly his) concealment as well as protection from the cold. Mercy also had been reintroduced to the backpack she had been dropped from the sky with, though nothing in it seemed to trigger any lost memories.

"This isn't going to be a particularly pleasant or safe trip, Mercy." He warned. "Even once we reach town."

"I know." She said with determination.

He eyed her contemplatively, with her unaware of course, while she fussed over preparations to leave. Her cheeks were already flushed in excitement without having even stepped outside yet, and as she bundled up in a cloak with that chipper excitement, she looked childish… Perhaps even cute. A grin fought its way onto his face.

"William?" She turned to look at him, soft lips puckered in uncertainty. Her delicate eyebrows furrowed questioningly. He stared. "Are you alright, William?"

"Um, oh, yes. Ready to go then?" He smoothed over to cover his moment of fluster.

There were a few midpoints between the shack and the target destination, however that didn't lessen the urgency of each segment of the trek. The first segment was especially long, and it took four hours. A short rest was in order for the weary pair, thankful that no enemies had been encountered so far. Soon it was noon time and they ate as well, rationing the food they had prepared beforehand. Erasing any evidence of them being there, they departed again.

"A hiking we all go, a hiking we all go!" Mercy sung. Guide snorted at her attempt at levity.

The snow seemed to dissipate more the further they descended from the snowy plateau in the mountains. Looking out ahead, the experienced man called out to her, who followed a few metres behind. "We should be careful here, this is dangerous territory unlike any you've seen. Unfortunately, that advice goes for your singing too."

This next segment was shorter distance-wise, though not necessarily temporally, as it took them right through the corruption in all its ebonstone and death-pit glory. Since they were only armed with copper swords and tools, the duo made sure to avoid open areas where flying Eater of Souls could easily target them. The arduous process of weaving through the trees—they figured it would be harder for soul eaters to fly at them with all the obstacles—and anxiously watching their surroundings with paranoia took its toll on them.

Eventually they were ambushed by a couple Eater of Souls.

"Behind you!" Mercy shrieked in fear, raising her sword in trembling hands as she pointed over his shoulder, behind him. Guide whirled around, raising his axe.

A gaping mouth of rotting flesh set with rows of menacingly long and sharp teeth lunged at him. Gulping, he brought back his axe and waited for it to come closer. With the right timing, he slammed the sharpened edge into the side of its mouth and sent it careening off at an angle into the dark of the forest. A promise of death screeched from the concealing shadows of the treeline, sending chills down their spines.

"Aghh!" Mercy cried out suddenly, "No! No …"

Guide turned his head to his companion to find his companion struggling with another Eater of Souls. Her shortsword was needling its head, but it stubbornly pushed forward and knocked her to the ground. As he was rushing forward to help, the hideous creature was already snapping its jaws, and it clamped down through the cloak on the fallen woman's side. Her shrill cry of pain caused him to wince, and she desperately shoved the sword deeper into its body in hope that it would die before she did. Wary of accidentally injuring Mercy, the axe in his hands pulled back and with both hands a mighty swing nearly chopped straight through the offender's lower body. A putrid, disgusting stench filled the air as it bled all sorts of nasty bits from the gaping gash.

Mercy was crying as the monster that was still latched onto her started dying. "Get … get it off …"

He frowned worriedly as he bent down to examine the puncture wound. Would it bleed heavily once he released her? But who knew what sort of infection she might get the longer he kept the beast's teeth in her? Not seeing any other options, he dislodged the carcass from his injured companion. Once she was free, her body trembled weakly as she looked up at him with watery eyes. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. Was it really a good idea for them to have tried making this journey? He barely made it through before alive on his own.

A small, emotional part of him bitterly thought, _it's fitting that I find myself doing what fate intended for me, being a Guide._ When he looked at her, however, that piece of him quieted. Instead, he found himself thinking, _well, if fate is bound to be rough, then at least I shan't face the menace alone._

He carefully looped his arms around her upper body and helped her to sit up. Her hands shakily grasped his cloak and pulled him closer, and he held her as she shook.

"Shh, shh." He soothed. "It's gone. You're alright. Let's see your wounds, okay?"


End file.
